


Red Rivers and Roses

by enigmagnetic



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, HAWKEYE IS FUCKING DEAF, Happy Ending, Human Experimentation, Hurt Wade, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Moral Dilemmas, Slow Build, peter is not a teenager, team red!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmagnetic/pseuds/enigmagnetic
Summary: Peter is in college and what he really doesn't need right now is to be evicted from his apartment, but of course nothing really goes to plan for him. Damn his Parker Luck™.His sweet, sweet Aunt May saves the day (like she always does) and manages to find him an apartment a few floors above hers, but the room comes with a roommate.What he wasn't expecting is for his roommate to be a certain morally ambiguous mercenary.**The tags will change as the fic gets updated**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has an almost-rape scene, but do not fear, it wasn't either Peter or Wade, and it wasn't described in detail and it didn't happen (they just stop it from happening). I thought some people might appreciate the warning.  
> Otherwise, it's all safe! No triggers need to be tagged yet.  
> I really hope you enjoy my work. I spent a lot of time on it. It's my first Spideypool fic, but I gained some confidence to finally write one :)  
> This is Earth-616/MCU, and if I make any mistakes, please feel free to notify me of them in the comment section and I'll fix it.  
> ...  
> But that's enough from me, enjoy the fic!

Peter Parker lives a normal life. No, he really does! Okay, that’s a lie; it’s never normal, but it’s normal for him at the moment. There aren’t any major villains attacking the city, life’s going steady-ish. He has, of course, his job at the Bugle, which is torture, but when isn’t it?

He works afternoons at the Bugle as a writer and occasionally sells his pictures (mainly the ones of Spiderman, of course) to Jameson. He goes to college, and he is in his last year. He’s 23, though he has a young looking face which makes him look five years younger than he actually is. He has to show his ID at every club he goes to, and sometimes they think it’s fake. The struggles, man, the struggles.

His Aunt May is still around, thank God _._ If anything were to happen to Aunt May, his life probably wouldn’t be stable. Besides being the only person Peter can lean on and the only family he has left, she also reminds him to do important things before they get bad, like paying bills and buying groceries. And yes, being in college means that he follows stereotypes like living of ramen noodles and take out, if he eats at all that day.

Aside from basically living in poverty due to tuition fees, Peter also lives in a constant state of being sleep deprived, yay. Patrolling the streets every night will do that to a guy. That’s also a thing, unfortunately, patrolling nights and being bruised every goddamn day. Sure, he has a _slightly_ advanced healing factor, but it doesn’t mean that his bruises go away instantly. Some last days, and people obviously get suspicious and ask him what the hell happens to him, but he can only say ‘I ran into a door’ so many times.

Right now, in fact, Peter is patrolling. He usually gets back by three a.m. but _right_ as he was about to head home (more like hobble, he was _beat_ ,) his Spidey Sense™ started going crazy. By the intensity of the shiver that crawled its way up his spine, he’d probably say that there were at least six men that he had to take down. He sighed and followed his intuition to the scene of the crime. He hates gang attacks for two reasons: 1) he has a lot more work to do, and 2) the other person is majorly outnumbered and that’s just not even fair. His face scrunched up at what was in front of him. Yep, a gang attack.

Six men (his senses were on point) were cornering a woman. The woman seemed to be a stripper or a prostitute, he guesses by the amount of sparkly pink clothing she’s wearing, or lack thereof, but by her face, it’s prevalent that she’s not into it at all. She looks terrified, the scene reeks of fear, and Peter’s whole body fills with adrenaline and rage. He can’t stand rapists, let alone when they team up together.

Peter feels like making a smart comment like he normally does, but he doesn’t have an ounce of playfulness in him. He drops off the building and does a superhero landing which, _ouch_. The group of men, which are a lot taller than they seemed when he saw them up on the roof, all turn to face Peter. One of them, surprisingly, dropped his knife and surrendered immediately. The other five kept their weapons in their hand, looking annoyed at his presence more than scared.

“No! Just let me leave, I didn’t even want to do this! I was just here with my friends and I didn’t think they were serious. These guys will probably kill me anyway if you don’t please just let me leave!” The guy who surrendered cowered.

“Sure, just head off that way,” Peter said, jerking his head backwards behind himself.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He started running away, clearly avoiding Peter at all costs, but before he could get far, Peter webbed him to the floor.

“Yeah, as if,” Peter said, not even bothering to turn back to say it.

The rest of the men started advancing towards Peter, all except one who takes the woman in his arms and holds a knife to her throat. Peter pulls up his fists and prepares for a rather annoying fight, though the adrenaline is still pumping through him. He jumps and spin kicks the closest in the face, making sure to land a web on one of the men’s faces as he lands. Two stumble, and the other two take a swing at him at the same time. They miss, of course, because Spidey Sense™, and he manages to catch their arms and twist them in a way that makes it uncomfortable to hold their knives, and they drop them.

One, the sneaky little shit, bites Peter’s forearm, which frankly, is more gross than painful. He rolls his eyes under the mask, punching the guy in the side of the head. _Way to make yourself vulnerable much_ , Peter thinks. He falls unconscious. All three men standing, minus the one holding the woman hostage, start punching Peter and knock him down. They got some kicks in while he was down and some more punches and Peter felt embarrassingly weak. To be fair, he was already partially beat up from the last fight.

There was an opportunity and he was about to cease it when suddenly there was a red blur and no one was attacking him anymore. He was surprised to say the least. He laid there for a brief moment, stunned, but he got up.

“Huh-“

“Hey Spidey!”

_Deadpool._

“I could’ve handled myself,” Spiderman claimed. He was a little mad, because _he totally had that_.

“Sure, sweetie, if your plan was to get beat up by a bunch of dudes—which, by the way, was _not cool_.” Deadpool said, totally sarcastically, playfully, looking down and pointing a finger at one of the men on the ground who just whimpered in response. Peter laughed and looked around and saw that the rest of the men were on the ground—damn that was fast—either unconscious or dead. Oh dear lord did he hope it was the former.

“Are they...“ Peter trailed off.

“Dead? Nah, just used my master skills of fighting—I know it was a cheap shot, Yellow, thank you very much, but they were attacking Spidey!” Deadpool said. The last bit seemed to not be aimed at him, so he just ignored it.

“Umm,” Peter mumbled, “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, no problem, sweetums,” Deadpool said. “We should team up more often! We make the best team.” Peter only just remembered about the woman cowering in the corner. She was probably scared out of her brains.

“That was barely a team up. More like, half and half,” Peter corrected. “Also, can you call the cops with one of the douchebag’s phone while I talk to her?” Peter pointed behind himself and glanced at her.

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Deadpool chimed, perking up. He kicked one of the men while they were down, which was fair in Peter’s opinion. Deadpool probably knew what was happening as soon as he showed up. Peter started walking to the woman when he saw Deadpool dial the police.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked, gently holding her shaking shoulders. She tensed up, which was understandable. He especially hates rapists. He’s just so glad he slowed up when he did.

“Y-Yeah. Thank you, so much, thank you,” She said really fast. Her posture was shrunken and shameful, her shoulders slumped and her knees bend inwards and she’s holding her arms. The way she’s avoiding eye-contact made a shot of sympathy shoot through him.

“Do you want me to walk you home? My friend here can tell the police what happened,” He asks, not really trying to get her to look him in the eyes, but at least to focus on him fully.

“No, no, I’m fine. I don’t need you to do that.”

“But do you want me to?” Peter asked which captures her attention. _People probably don’t treat her right or respect her because of her profession_ , Peter thinks.

“I-I think I’m going to stay here and press charges. I reckon that one-“she points to the one webbed to the ground who surrendered, “-will confess.”

“That’s smart,” Peter compliments. He hears sirens wail in the distance and says his goodbyes. “I’ll be right up on the roof. The police don’t like me very much; I get called a menace more times than I blink, but I’ll wait until they get here before I go.”

Deadpool comes up behind him, which really should set off his Spidey Senses at least _a little_ , but alas, it doesn’t, and he jumps, like, a big one, when he speaks.

“So where—woah calm down, it’s just me—where are we heading off to now?” Deadpool asks from a lot closer behind him than he expected.

“I’m going on the roof. You can go wherever you want, since you can’t climb walls,” Peter said, though there was a slightly playful tone to it. Peter really hoped that he could hear that playful tone, because he doesn’t wanna sound like a dick.

“Oooh! Please take me with you!” Deadpool brought his hands together under his chin and did a puppy dog face. His mask really is weirdly expressive. Peter took a moment to take in this picture, it was kinda funny. The sirens got closer, really close.

“Fine, but only because the police are almost here,” Peter says, and Deadpool springs and throws his hands up in the air.

“Yay!” He yells. “So how are we gonna do this? Do I just climb on your back?” Deadpool was _really_ excited. He’s so goddamn childish.

“I have a better idea,” Peter says while he hooks an arm around Deadpool’s waist.

“Oh Spidey~!” Deadpool whispers, fluttering his eyelashes. No, it really is weird how many expressions he can show under a mask.

“Shut up,” Peter groans, looking away and up. He shoots a web into one of the fire escapes on the top floor and pulls as hard as he can, which successfully slings himself and Deadpool in the air and onto the roof. Deadpool screams all the way.

When Peter sets them both down, he lets go of Deadpool and squats on the edge of the building. The police arrive right as he does, which is great because it is past his own curfew and he’d really love to sleep right now. Deadpool also tries to imitate his position, but almost falls off the roof and probably would have fallen right into the group of cops beneath them if Peter hadn’t put a hand to his chest and stopped him.

He thinks he can hear Deadpool saying something, but he’s too distracted watching the cops take care of things.  Once that’s over, though, he realise that Deadpool has been talking the _whole_ time. He’s just been talking _at_ him, which is oddly... calming. He obviously hasn’t been expecting anything in return, which is the calming part. Sometimes after a fight, or if it’s just too late at night (which, right now, it’s both), he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone.

 _Somehow_ he’s ended up talking about dogs and how innocent they are. Seriously, he stopped paying attention for like, two seconds and it already drifted somewhere completely different.

“I mean, have you ever looked into the eyes of a pug? Like really looked into its eyes? They basically shine with pureness.”

“As much as I’d love to talk about dogs, I’ve gotta head home and finally sleep.” Peter stands up, watching the woman gets into the police car to go make a statement.

“Catch ya later?” Deadpool asks, and he sounds hopeful.

“Okay. See ya, Deadpool.” He waves and he jumps off the building. He can hear Deadpool cheering in the background. It was late, but Deadpool always, for a lack of better word, spices up the night.

Peter climbed through the window to his apartment and collapsed on the nearest couch he found. He closed his eyes and relaxed his features. He really should get changed out of his Spiderman suit before he gets too comfortable. He stands up resentfully, drags himself to his room. There is stuff everywhere on his floor besides where the door opens. He doesn’t even own that much stuff, he doesn’t know how it’s literally everywhere. It just started building up over the months, he guessed.

He lazily pulled on some boxers and a loose white shirt that hangs just past where it’s meant to. The wooden floors were soothingly cool on his feet. He wondered how nice it’d be to lay down and let it cool his face. Probably not that comfortable, but not the weirdest place he’s fallen asleep.

He’d almost instantly fallen asleep as soon as he flopped onto his bed, but he managed to pull the blankets up around him before he dozed off.

 

-

 

He woke up to an awfully loud knock on his door. He checked the time. It was six a.m. what the hell was someone doing knocking on his door?? He doesn’t even normally wake up for another whole hour. He groaned and rolled—yes, literally rolled—off his bed and onto the floor, but it’s okay because there’s a bunch of clothes there. The person knocks again impatiently, and Peter curses them internally.

Once he pulled on a pair of worn-out jeans, he headed to the door and opens it, the light that seeped in blinding his freshly woken eyes.

“Hey, Mr Pittsburg?” He says, a little surprised that this is the guy that’s waking him up at six a.m. The guy barely answers his door before midday.

“Parker, your rent is overdue, again. I’m sorry but last time was the last warning. You know what that means,” Mr Pittsburg (aka Mr Shitsburg) says, holding a yellow piece of paper out for Peter.

“I gotta move, don’t I?” Peter rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sighed.

“Yeah, I need you out by tomorrow.” _That explains why he’s here so early_. At least he’s giving him as much time as he can, which is a weird turnaround from how he usually acts.

“Okay,” Peter said, before closing the door and lying on the couch. He pulled out his phone and dialled Aunt May immediately. Not to ask to move in, but to bitch about being kicked out.

“Peter,” She answered cheerfully, drawing out the last syllable. “How are you?”

“Hey Aunt May. I’m fine, but my landlord evicted me,” He said, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see him.

“Oh Peter,” She said sympathetically, “when do you have to move out? Do you have a place to stay?”

“I can stay until tomorrow, but I have no idea where I’m going to stay,” Peter rolled over onto his stomach and swayed his legs a little.

“You’re always welcome to stay with me until you can find a place of your own, you know Peter,” Aunt May offered. She’s always been so sweet to him.

“No, it’s alright, Aunt May, I’ll find a place soon enough.” He sighed. He in truth has no idea how he’s going to find a place so soon, but he doesn’t want to cause a hassle. She finally got settled into a nice apartment of her own after her house burnt down a few months back and he doesn’t want to mess up her schedule.

“Well,” She started. Something in her voice was devious. “If you won’t move in with me, there’s this handsome man a few floors above me who said he’s looking for a new roommate last time I ran into him. He’s a little peculiar, but he’s the sweetest.”

Ever since Peter told his Aunt about his bisexuality, she’s been trying to set him out with twice as many people as she usually would. It used to just be girls she met, daughters of neighbours, but now it’s also the sons of neighbours, or, in this case, the neighbour himself.

“Come on, Peter, it’s worth a shot.”

“Okay, because I’ll get to live near you, but also because it’s my only option so far. Mainly that second one,” He said smiling and biting the inside of his cheek, earning a tssk from Aunt May.

“I’ll go tell him the news and ask for details. I’ll text you them later. You should start packing. Do you have any classes today?” Aunt May wrapped up. If she’s awake at six a.m. then she probably has to get ready for a volunteer project soon. She never ceases to amaze Peter with how generous she is.

“No, not today, all I have is homework,” He said, looking out the window as the sun _rises_. The sun isn’t even fully up yet, for Christ’s sake.

“Well, you better get to it. Hope everything goes smoothly for you.”

“Thanks, Aunt May. I’ll see you tomorrow, probably. Love you.”

“Love you too, Peter.”

Peter sighed (he’s been doing that a lot lately) and laid his face into the pillow.

 _So_ , Peter thought, _you’re going to move in with a complete stranger_. _Peter, oh so awkward Peter, is moving in with a complete stranger._ _I wonder how I’ll make a fool of myself this time. Maybe I’ll break a family heirloom and they’ll hate me. Maybe I’ll get scared and cling to the roof and completely blow my secret identity._

He stood up, deciding that trying to go back to sleep showed to be utterly futile. He went to the kitchen and made himself instant coffee and cereal. Caramel coffee, it reminds him of autumn wind that isn’t too cold and isn’t too hot. It’s bliss to drink first thing in the morning. He sits on his couch because the table is cramped with schoolwork and take out containers.

_Guess I’m finally gonna have to clean that up._

Just as he finished his cereal, his phone buzzed with an excited message from Aunt May.

**_He’s said yes !!! You can even move in today if you want :)_ **

Peter considered it, he’s not gonna lie, but despite how little amount of stuff he has, he has a lot to clean up. After another hour of staring out the window and watching the streets start to flood with cars, he actually got up and started cleaning. He started with the takeout containers, the sea of them, and then started on the living rooms and kitchen. His room will be the easiest to clean, as he just has to pick up the clothes from his floor and put them in bags, but in reality he’s dreading it. Everyone know that cleaning your bedroom is the most boring one and that you inevitably end up lying in a pile of clothes procrastinating—which is where he ended up, on his phone, on the floor.

Once he’s done doing all that _hard labour_ he takes the day off and stays in. He probably could’ve made up some sleep he’s missed over the past weeks, or perhaps done some homework, but no. Instead he binge watches sci-fi and horror shows on Netflix. The day was good, and now that it’s night time, he can finally go out and blow off steam. He just hopes that he can still do regular patrols with his new roommate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool is here and Aunt May is an angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo so I got such good feedback on the first chapter and I wanted to say that you are all so lovely and I don't deserve all that love <3

Peter knocked on the door of number 37 on the 6th floor. He counted the floors for when he goes patrolling; he doesn’t exactly want to climb into the wrong window again. He held two bags at his side, and his backpack thrown over his right shoulder. He is wearing the same jeans as yesterday (who’s gonna notice anyway) and a white button down with the sleeves rolled up just past his elbow. A lot of feelings were rushing through him right then. Flares of fright, sharp shivers stalking down his spine, all that jazz.  

The place is ominous in a way. What makes it seem worse is that the front door, no matter how towering or cold it is, looks normal. Everything inside of him was screaming for him to take up Aunt May’s offer and run downstairs, but everything seems fine. He knows, deep inside of himself, that everything will be fine, that his new friendly roommate will open the door and introduce himself and they’ll talk about normal things such as where they work and Peter will inevitably feel stupid for ever being scared.

It’s no secret that he’s awkward and without any friends. Sure, he talks to people at work and at college, but he doesn’t consider them friends. He can’t afford to have any friends. He once had friends; Gwen, Harry, MJ. They’re gone now, whether they’re dead or distant strangers. He tells himself that being a lone ranger is for everyone else’s benefit, that if he stays away from people, he can’t hurt them. It’s a dead lie. He’s only really afraid of the guilt that’ll haunt him.

He was sick of hearing his thoughts so he knocked again, harder and more frantic this time. He heard a mumbled yell on the other side telling him to come on in, so he did.

He looked around the apartment. It was neat and in order, but the things shoved in various places led Peter to think that it is not always this neat. The couch was facing away from the door, which is where his new roommate was. He could see black boots propped up on the table and a gloved hand balancing upright on the armrest holding—yep that’s a handgun. Peter knew something weird or dangerous was going to happen. He should have just bailed when he could.

“Uhh...” Peter was at a loss for words. He was preparing for the worst. He was already working out how he could take this guy down if he tried anything. He was eyeing the coffee table which could be used as cover if-

“Put the food there.” He waved the gun carelessly at small table beside him. “The money is there, too. Talk and you won’t get paid. Golden Girls rerun is on.”

“Okay, what the fuck.” Peter was beyond confused at this point. The man turned his head a little to glance at Peter using his peripherals when he must have realised that Peter wasn’t who he thought he was.

He snapped his full attention to Peter and stood up. “Oh shitfuck, you’re not the Taco Bell guy!”

When he stood up, Peter’s eyes probably went to the size of dinner plates. The bag on his shoulder definitely hit the floor. “Taco Bell doesn’t deliver?” Peter questioned. There was nothing else he could really say. The red and black spandex, the _katanas._ The man in front of him was- he was- he is-

“They do if you pay them enough.” He shrugged. He took a few strides forward. “Hi! I’m Deadpool, but you can call me Captain Deadpool if that tickles your pickle.” He extended his hand which wasn’t still holding the gun.

“Peter Parker?” Peter was putting an inflection on the end of everything he said. Nervous habit.

“You don’t sound so sure about that but don’t worry, your sweet aunt told me your name, so I can confirm that Peter Parker is your name. She also showed me your picture, and I must say, you look better in person.”

“She showed you my picture,” Peter deadpanned. Of course she did. She means well, but he has a really really really strong feeling that Aunt May has never seen him in the suit, because she would never try to set him up with a notorious mercenary.

“Is that all you’re really worried about? Not, I don’t know, the fact that I’m Deadpool? _The_ Deadpool?” Deadpool asked, pocketing his gun _somewhere_ behind him—he doesn’t really want to know where or how.

“Don’t flatter yourself. My aunt told me that you are a huge sweethearted softie, and that you have a Taylor Swift shrine in your bedroom.” Okay, so maybe that second bit was a lie, but he may as well poke some fun.

“Ha! That’s where you’re wrong. I’m a total badass, and my shrine is in the kitchen, not the bedroom.”

Peter snorted at that and picked up his bag, a smile clear on his face. “Which room is mine?”

Deadpool looked a bit taken back. He blinked dumbly through the mask dropping his folded arms. “You actually want to stay?”

“I’m kind of out of options, but I like you anyway.” Peter shrugged, emphasising how calm me was with the situation. Deadpool’s jaw went slack, before clenching it again and looking at something beside Peter’s head. “My room...”

Deadpool snapped his attention back to Peter and widened his eyes just the slightest. “Yeah, it’s that one.” He shot the door. Peter would have flinched, if he weren’t so annoyed that he just shot his bedroom door.

Peter slumped his shoulders and exhaled dramatically. “Whyyyyyy?” He drew out, walking over to his room. He loved holes in his bedroom doors. It made them special, and cold.

He went into his room and collapsed on the bed. He let his face lay in the pillow for a little bit. He turned his head to the side and was very pleased that he saw a window in his room. That reminded him, would living with Deadpool make it harder or easier to sneak out as Spiderman? Should he simply tell Deadpool his alter ego? He shoved that thought away as soon as it came. Of course he shouldn’t. Just because he is friends (associates? Partners in crime?) with Deadpool as Spiderman, doesn’t mean he trusts him with his biggest secret. Even though it seemed like a clear no-go, he still felt a little conflicted.

He rolled onto his back, letting his hair rest covering his eyes. He tried to focus on listening to the conversation in the next room. He was guessing the Taco Bell guy was there (did he really...?) and he sat up. Did Deadpool order enough for him as well? God he hoped so.

His prayers had been answered, as Deadpool called to him from the other side of the door. He knew he was on the other side still because he could see his thighs through the bullet hole. Kinda looked like a glory hole, if he was being honest. He stood up and got changed, taking off his shirt and simply putting a black hoodie on with nothing underneath. He kicked off his shoes and started walking towards the door. The wooden floors were slippery and slidey and fun to drag his feet along.

Peter opened the door, jumping back as Deadpool was right there, holding out some food. “Taco Bell arrived,” Deadpool informed, taking a quick glance at Peter’s outift. Peter accepted the food, and closed the door as he left the room. “Oh, I thought you’d be eating in your room.”

“What? And miss Golden Girls?” Peter smirked. He knew that Deadpool loved that show, for whatever reason. In past patrols, he’d talk endlessly about Bea Arthur. He knew more about the show than he should for someone who’s never seen it.

They were sitting on the couch, a fair distance between them. Peter had already started digging into his food, thanking Deadpool a million times for the food.

“How much did you pay them?” Peter asked around a mouthful of food. He had his legs tucked up to his chest and his hood on. Even in situations where everything seems fine, Peter likes to have some sort of social crutch or hiding place.

“Three hudred dollars.” _Three is a good number_ , Peter thought. There was a silence, which made Peter instinctively hide his hands in his jumper sleeves like paws. “Like your hoodie by the way. Spidey is great. I know him. He’s a real hottie.”

Peter pinched his eyebrows together and looked down. He was, in fact, wearing his Spiderman logo t-shirt. Gwen had suggested it one time, saying that he’d come across as a fan if anyone started tying links together. The photos, the late nights, etc.

“I know him too,” Peter said, probably not as smoothly as he’d hoped. He ducked his head slightly and cursed under his breath.

“Really? How do you know him?” Wade’s expression was that of a teenage fangirl talking about a middle aged actor.

“I-I just take pictures of him for The Daily Bugle. When he was in a good mood one time, he took my camera and took a selfie on it. I really wish I were in the photo with him.” Peter wasn’t lying at all, which is probably why Deadpool believed him. Peter feigned sadness, looking at Deadpool who was giving him a sympathetic look. He hadn’t even opened his food, which was odd considering he spent $3oo to get it delivered.

“Bad luck, man. He’s really cool. Helped him stop a crime just a few nights ago, if you’d believe it.” Deadpool was pretty proud of it, Peter guessed. It was kind of dangerous talking about his alter ego with the guy that he talks to most as said alter ego.

“How come you aren’t eating?” Peter changed the subject. He kind of wished he hadn’t by the way Deadpool seemed to shut off, his voice lowering a few tones.

“Lost my appetite, I’ll eat later.” Peter furrowed his brows, but didn’t push it. He inwardly scolded himself for forgetting that it took Deadpool seven times eating together on rooftops before he stopped facing away from Peter or covering his exposed jaw with his hand as he ate.

Not much happened the rest of the night. Once Peter got back into his room, he shed his clothes and put on his Spiderman suit. He considered all the possibilities in which Deadpool might try to come find him while he’s gone, but decided to roll those dice and leave anyway. The window was creaky, so he left it open while he was gone.

Swinging through New York at 2 a.m. is exactly what he needed right now. He missed Queen. Though he has moved to New York full time, he still visits Queens every night. He can’t just ditch his home town. He whooped as he flipped, enjoying the free fall moments. There’s no room for thoughts while he’s flying through the air. He ended up in Hell’s Kitchen. He didn’t realise it until he saw someone getting beat up on a rooftop. He decided to check it out and ran into the one and only Devil’s of Hell’s Kitchen.

He webbed the other man to the wall, capturing the attention of Daredevil. He was puffed out, but the crooked smile on his face suggested that he was thrilled by fighting.

“Spiderman? I didn’t know you were in town.” He huffed, taking the gun off the ground and pocketing it. He guessed it belonged to the guy on the floor.

Peter shrugged. “I just ended up swinging here. Crime is low in the city right now. Who’s this guy?”

“Minion of someone powerful. He was sent to kill me. It’s been happening to me a lot lately.”

Peter hummed empathetically. Happens to the best of heroes. His senses flared and he snapped his head to the left at the same time Daredevil did. They shared a knowing look.

“Wanna help me deal with that?” The devil asked and Peter nodded.

Peter ran side by side with Daredevil along the rooftop. Daredevil was running along the roof’s edge as Peter was sticking to the middle, doing little flips here and there.

“So,” Peter said on the way, “I’ve got a little problem.”

“Oh?” Daredevil jumped across a roof at the same time Peter did. “And what’s that?” He said when they landed.

“Well,” He huffed, “I got a new roommate.”

“And?”

“It’s Deadpool.”

“I can see why that’d be a problem,” Daredevil said with a slightly amused tone, “Does he know who you are?” He suddenly dropped into an alley and Peter followed suit.

“No, which is exactly my problem.” Peter jumped down a few fire escapes and webbed the gun out of the hand of a mugger.

“Not the fact that he’s a mercenary?” Daredevil started beating the shit out of the mugger and boy was he ruthless.

Peter dealt with another man, holding a switchblade. “He’s not evil; I’ve seen him do good, so that’s not my biggest problem.” Peter dodged a swing from the man who looked not much younger than he was. He was wearing clothes that looked dirty and well worn, and Peter felt a pang of sympathy. He was probably struggling.

“He kills people for money. He’s the same as the rest of the mercs out there. Just because he wears spandex and can spew a few good jokes doesn’t mean I’ll view him as any less than a criminal.” Daredevil had the other mugger in a choke hold, knocking the guy out within seconds.

“I am well aware of your views on my friendship with Deadpool.” Peter rolled his eyes. “But I’m wondering what you think I should do about my identity problem. Do I just outright tell him? Do I never tell him? Do I only tell him if it’s midnight and the full moon is out?” Peter punched the mugger that he was dealing with in the right side of the face knocking him out cold. “Oh shit I didn’t mean to do it that hard.” He said to himself.

Daredevil laughed. “He’ll be fine. But about your situation, I’d keep your identity to yourself.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which is was not.

Peter frowned at his certainty. “Why? He’d find out eventually, right?”

“Not if you are good at keeping secrets. Deadpool has...” He turned his hand a few times, “An ambiguous moral code.”

Peter quickly scanned his surroundings trying to find the victim but they must have been a runner. “Do you think that if I told him that it’d put my life in danger?”

“You know him better than I do. What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

 

-

 

“Aunt May, did you really try to set me up with Deadpool?” Peter asked disbelievingly. He was sitting at her breakfast bar in her apartment early in the morning.

“Yes. He’s a nice man, Peter. Give him a chance.” Aunt May said, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. Latte with two sugars, no milk; the scratchy feeling of a fluffy jumper on bare skin.

“Wait, so you knew he was a world known killer and you still suggested I moved in with him?” Peter asked, even more shocked than he was two seconds ago. Is this really Aunt May in front of him?

She smacked his arm as she sat down next to him, a cup of tea in her hands. “He’s more than his job, Peter, just like you are more than a photographer.” Aunt May was really chill considering the topic they were discussing. “I thought you two would get along.”

Peter sighed. She was right. “We do, I’m just surprised is all.” He took a long sip of his drink, thinking over his next reply. “Nothing is boring when he’s around, at least.”

She smiled and hummed. “Yes, I heard that gunshot yesterday.” She didn’t seem at all phased by anything that was being said then.

“Don’t worry, no one was hurt.”

“I know.”

“’S just his way of showing me where my room was,” Peter said, smiling over his mug.

Aunt May laughed in an ‘of course’ way. “That’s so like him,” She said fondly.

There was a comforting silence that settled in the room. Peter took that time to think about what was at the back of his mind the whole time. “You said he was handsome, so I assume you’ve seen him without his mask?”

“Yes, I have.”

“He hasn’t taken it off around me yet. He didn’t even eat in front of me.” Peter tried not to sound disappointed but he guessed that Aunt May could hear it.

“He’ll come around eventually, it’s nothing personal,” She said, placing a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Peter said, finishing his coffee.

She stood up and walked around Peter to the kitchen again, taking his cup and rinsing it along with her own. “Now, I made cookies this morning for you and Wade,” She said, pulling a tray out of the oven with what looked like two dozen chocolate chip cookies. The smell that hit Peter like a tidal wave was heaven that reminded him of dewy wet grass in the morning.

Peter grinned widely. “Where would I be without you?”

Peter left after hugging Aunt May and kissing her cheek, promising to visit tomorrow. He closed the door behind him and started walking up the stairs. He was excited to eat Aunt May’s fabulous cookies, and to give them to Deadpool. He doesn’t know if Deadpool has ever had them before, but he knows for sure that he’d love them. Who wouldn’t?

He knocked on the door to the shared apartment and waited patiently for him to open it. He didn’t have to wait long.

“My aunt made cookies for us,” He started with, holding the container up and shaking it. Deadpool grinned beneath his mask and stepped aside for Peter, closing the door behind him and locking it.

“That aunt of yours is an angel, I swear. What does that make you?”

Peter _really_ wanted to say ‘Spiderman’ because it seemed like a funny moment that they could look back on and laugh at, but he thought better of it and said “blessed, that’s what.”

They sat on the couch and Peter cracked open the tub and immediately took a huge bite of one of the still warm cookies. He moaned as closed his eyes as they tasted _so fucking good_. He held the container out for Deadpool to take one, but he denied the offer.

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” He said, waving his hands in front of him.

“What, you afraid of getting fat?” Peter joked.

“No, it’s not that.”

Peter shook the container closer towards him. “Come on, they’re great.” He took another bite of the one in his hand. “Here, I’ll face away if you really want, just try one, Deadpool.” He looked away and held the box out to Deadpool.

After a few seconds, he felt Deadpool take a cookie and eat it. “Ugh, these are perfection.” He said.

Peter smiled at that. It was a start. He took another one, positioning himself comfortably away from Deadpool, cross legged.

“Wade,” Deadpool said in the silence.

“What?”

“It’s- my name is Wade. Wade Wilson,” Deadp- Wade said.

“Hm,” Peter giggled, “both our names are alliterative.”

Deadpool huffed. He suddenly stood up and left, but came back with what sounded like a key. “I forgot to give this to you yesterday. Didn’t think you’d stay, sorry.” He chucked it at Peter’s lap but Peter caught it mid air anyway, not even looking in case Wade still had his mask up. He doesn’t want to look in case it upsets him.

“It’s okay, I can pick locks anyway,” Peter said, pocketing the keys and taking a new cookie.

“Why didn’t you unlock the door then?” Wade took another cookie

“I don’t know about you, Wade, but I don’t keep a bobby pin or a lock picking kit with me at all times.”

“I do.”

There was a break in conversation, then Peter said “Hey, I don’t have to go anywhere, wanna marathon Harry Potter?”

Deadpool gasped. “That’ll take 20 hours!”

“So? Are you a weakling?” Peter smirked.

“God no, just checking if you were.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro to some actual plot + Jameson roasting Peter

Well, Peter officially got no sleep. The Harry Potter marathon went until 3 a.m. (he’s totally a Hufflepuff, Deadpool got Ravenclaw on Pottermore no matter how many accounts he made) then he went on his basically obligatory nightly patrol. Probably wasn’t the best idea, looking back on it. Going on six hours for the whole week is usually fine, but today was hell. His Spidey senses have gone AWOL and his normal senses were, for a lack of better word, _fucked up_. His coffee smelt like cabbage and his eyes were playing tricks on him. He nearly jumped to the roof when while his back was turned Deadpool snuck up on him. For a man with a build like his, he sure is light on his feet. He’s just really thankful and praises whatever celestial entity there is that he had a normal, scared to death reaction.

“Jesus fuck Wade! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Green sweater? I feel an incredible urge to steal your lunch money.”

Once he realised the time, he was basically running out the door. He was going to be late for work, that’s for sure. He swapped his shift to the morning for some reason he doesn’t even remember, but he would happily go back in time to punch his past self in the face.

 Man oh man Jameson is gonna have a fun time scolding him on time maintenance and what a menace Spiderman is. Seriously, even when Spiderman is totally irrelevant and hasn’t been brought up, be ends up slamming a table and demanding pictures of him, which is where he is now, getting an angry oral essay on where Spiderman was the night before last. Peter really wanted to throw his coffee at Jameson and tell him exactly what he was thinking: “I was fucking there”. But instead, he bit his tongue and nodded along.

He knew he was pitied by all his co-workers. They didn’t have to deal with him while he was on an anti-vigilante rant. Peter takes pride in it, actually, being able to handle his wrath on a regular basis. He left Jameson’s office with a look of pure disgust on his face—some people even laughed, but not at him—as he walked over to his cramped desk. He usually doesn’t mind the mess; heck, it’s soothing on most days, but just not today.

He practically throws all his stuff onto the floor at his feet except his laptop and began typing away his article to go with his picture of Spiderman. He got upgraded to writer as well as photographer a little over a year back. It’s not his dream job, but at least he has _some_ say over what gets printed in the papers about his alter ego. From time to time he gets flat out rejected by Jameson and told to rewrite the whole thing, but sometimes he manages to slip some positivity in under his nose.

“Hey Peter,” Jasmine shamelessly flirted. Her tone was cringey, to be honest. He can usually tolerate her inability to not be able to pick up hints, but he was going to snap. He’s gonna do it. He can’t stand her hair twirling and impractical standing positions.

“Hi Jas,” Peter said, sighing and closing his laptop, swivelling his chair around to face her.

“I was wondering if you could help me use the printer? We got new colour ink and I don’t know how to use it.” This was seriously ridiculous. He brought a hand down his face and thought over what to say to her. Tell her what he really wants or be nice.

“I’ve seen you use colour ink before, Jasmine,” He let out exasperatedly.

“But I’m still not sure-“

“Please stop.” It came out softer than he thought it would, honestly.

“What?” She asked, dumbfounded.

“Please stop acting dumb. You- you’re smart, and you don’t have to act dumb for my attention. You shamelessly flirt with me, and yeah, it’s a little weird, but please just stop acting dumb.” He was waiting for her to do something, like flirt again or play it off like she truly needed help with the printer, but she didn’t.

“Thanks, Pete.” She spun on her heel and walked away, normally, not that weird hip swaying thing that she started doing recently.

Huh. That was not what he was expecting. Maybe luck was going to be in his favour today. He opened up his laptop and typed the rest of his piece and sent it to Jameson.

It started raining softly on the window next to his cubicle, lulling him almost to sleep. His cheek was starting to feel numb from where he was resting his hand on it. He started thinking about the sudden shitstorm that is his life recently.

He moved in with Deadpool. Sure, he enjoyed his company and his jokes always cheer him up on particularly gloomy days, but what else is there to Wade that Peter doesn’t know? Is he the kind of person that helps old ladies across the street? Does he get road rage and do illegal U-turns at busy intersections? Peter knows little to nothing about Wade, now that he really thinks about it.

He knows what is in his SHEILD files about his cancer and the Weapon X program, but those aren’t always the truth. He knows because his files are also vague and misleading.

His Spidey senses suddenly flared (so _now_ they decide to work?) and he ducked to dodge a flying stapler.

“Parker! Get in here and explain this to me right now before I fire you!” Jameson yelled from across the floor. Peter rolled his eyes as he stood up. He picked up the stapler, like a responsible and cooperative employee, and brought it to his arrogant superior. As he walked across the room, he was actually impressed by how far and how accurately Jameson threw that stapler. He’s had a lot of practice, he guesses.

“Yes, sir?” Peter said, running a hand through his probably messy hair. He doesn’t really care for what Jameson has to say, he was using all of his internal monologue for counting down the seconds until he could go home.

“Parker, can you tell me something?” He asked softly, looking up from his computer and up at Peter, clasping his hands on the table in front of him.

“Yeah?” Peter was needless to say a little confused. A second ago he was threatening to fire him, now he’s... what even is he doing?

“I just want to know,” He said, softly again, “Did you learn to write articles off the back of a damn cereal box?! What’s this about Spiderman and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen being heroes? They’re menaces, a pain in my neck! I want to know what havoc they are planning to inflict on New York! Start the whole thing again and this time write ‘Sorry that the author of this article is an incompetent dimwit’ at the bottom!”

Peter left Jameson’s office in an unsurprisingly bad mood. He sat back down at his desk and started writing his stupid article again. His cell phone rang on his desk and he ignored it. Well, at least he tried to. The phone picked itself up.

“Heyyyyyy my little muffin angel! Miss you right now. How come you didn’t pick up?” It blared through the speaker, he fell off his chair. Everyone heard that. He’s never seen so many heads turn to face him all at once since that one time in high school science.

He picked up the phone, barking an agitated “What the fuck?” at the person on the other end.

“Petey!” He pulled his head back and turned off speaker. “Okay, so you’re not dead with shock yet, that’s good.”

“Wade? What the flying fuck did you do to my phone?” Peter whisper yelled, ducking to face away from everyone.

“Just tweaked it, but that’s not important.”

“It kinda is.”

“No, it’s not! Now shh, I have the best news ever! So you know Tony Stark? AKA flying tin man?” Wade asked, excited beyond belief.

“Of course I do, I only live in New York,” Peter said, tongue dripping with sarcasm.

“Well, he asked me where you were, and I told him so he’s coming to meet you right now! Isn’t that great?? This is like every nerd and fanboy’s wet dream!”

“What?!” Peter jumped, banging his knees on his desk, turning some heads once again. Oh the gossip they’ll exchange after this.

“Yeah!” Wade screeched. Peter would not be surprised if Wade was jumping up and down.

Peter looked out the window and down at the sidewalk where a black limo pulled up. Like Wade said, the infamous Tony Stark climbed out and started walking towards the front doors. Oh fuck. Oh shit fuck. Wherefore art thou at the fucking Bugle? Peter assumed the worst that his identity has been blown and Mr Stark is here to—do what, exactly? What possible reason could Tony Stark want to talk to Peter, or even Spiderman?

“-ello? Hellooooooooo? Did you die of shock yet? Is that why you aren’t replying? Petey?” Wade was calling on the other end, pulling Peter out of his inner panic attack.

“Stop calling me that.” He groaned, face palming.

“Aww but I thought we bonded yesterday after spending all day together!” Wade whined.

The elevator dinging made Peter snap his head up. “I’ve got to go,” He said before hanging up and packing his stuff up frenetically. He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, rushing to the hallway to intercept them before Tony and two of his pals walked in and demanded he come with them and drawing even more attention to him.

“Parker?” Tony asked. Peter recognised his two pals as Captain America and Hawkeye.

“Walk and talk,” Peter demanded, not even stopping or looking at them. Captain freaking America and Iron Man were at his workplace, talking to him, a nerdy little photographer in college. That would raise a few questions.

Once they were all in the elevator, Peter introduced himself, trying to keep in mind that they may not know his alter ego. “Hello, sir, I’m Peter Parker.” He shook Tony’s hand, then the other two introduced themselves.

“Steve Rogers.” Right. Captain America was in front of him, talking to him, shaking his hand. Fanboy it, right?

“S-Sir! It’s an honour to meet you! And you, Mr Stark! Wow, what a day!” Peter faked a smile and went to shake Hawkeye’s hand, but he didn’t offer his. Right. He has a secret identity.

“Likewise, Peter. May I call you Peter?” Tony asked. He’s being very professional and not assholey, which makes him think something is up.

“Sure.”

“Alright, Peter. I want to offer you an internship at Stark Industries.” The elevator dinged and they walked down the hallway towards the exit. “I’ve read your stuff on biophysics and genetics. I think you could be really useful at SI. I need new young intelligent minds, and I see a lot of potential in you.”

“Why does that mean I have to be taken out of my workplace right now by two of America’s most beloved? My phone does work.” Peter stopped walking and crossed his arms. He had a snark in his tone. He couldn’t help it, today was just not his day.

“We don’t have your phone number,” Tony said. The others were awfully quiet.

“But you have my home address?”

Cap and Hawkeye shared a confused look. Maybe they don’t know that part. Why were they there in the first place? Tony was doing all the talking, and they clearly don’t know what’s going on. Tony waved a hand at them and they left the building.

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Tony asked, eyeing the receptionist and a few curious people who stopped to watch on the way in.

“There’s a bathroom?” Peter said, gesturing behind Tony at the men’s room.

Tony dragged Peter into the bathroom and checked if anyone was in the stalls before getting into Peter’s personal space. “I know who you are,” He whispered, looking back and forth between Peter’s eyes to check if he was right.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, trying his hardest not to flinch or damage his everyday demeanour.

“Don’t shit with me you nerdy wall climber.” Peter could tell that he was trying to intimidate him, but that whole sentence was funny. It’s impossible to call someone that while being scary. It’s like yelling ‘bubbles’ at someone and expecting them to cower in fear. He stifled a laugh and bit his lip. “What? What’s funny?”

“You tried to scare me by calling me a nerdy wall climber. That’s the lamest insult ever,” Peter laughed out.

“So you are Spiderman.” Tony confirmed and Peter stopped laughing. He went all serious and lowered his voice.

“No, I just write articles about that criminal menace,” Peter said, channelling his hatred for Jameson into his voice so he sounds convincing.

“Look, Peter, I’m not here to turn you over to the Avengers or SHEILD. I’m offering you an internship. I do need you, Peter, and I want to keep your identity a secret too,” Tony said, and Peter just blinked in surprise. Okay so he was not expecting that. “If I hire you as my intern or assistant, I can communicate with you daily and no one would bat an eye. Your incredible smarts are just an added bonus and makes this seem more believable.”

“So you won’t put my identity on any records and you won’t tell anyone else about my identity?” Peter asked, uncrossing his arms.

“I don’t understand why you’d want your identity a secret, but yeah, I won’t.”

Peter relaxed, leaning against a sink. Everything Tony said was reasonable. There’s no reason not to trust him. “When do I start and do I get paid?”

“You can start right now, if you’d like. Also, yes, lots.”

Which is what he did. The rest of the day was spent wandering Stark Industries (surprisingly not running into any Avengers) and tinkering with all the expensive machines that no doubt cost more than an apartment block.

He was basically in heaven.

 

-

 

 “What did Iron Man want?” Wade deadpanned as soon as he opened the door.

“I’m great, how are you?” Peter sarcastically said, walking past Wade and into the kitchen.

“So?” Wade asked, leaning across the bench to listen carefully, arms propped up underneath his chin. Peter could tell he obviously looked up to the Avengers and that brought a smile to his face.

“Tony Stark offered me an internship,” Peter said cheerfully, loving the goofy smile that Wade got when he heard him say it.

“What in the ass? He offered you an internship? For what, photography? OH! I could do that. Next time you see him tell him I take wicked selfies.”

Peter chuckled. “He offered me a place working in the labs n stuff.” Peter shrugged.

“You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding. You’re a nerd? I know that you dress like one, but I thought you were the artsy kind of nerd that takes pictures, not the genius one!” Wade said and Peter took it as a compliment. He flushed a little and smiled again.

“I’m still in college, but he sees potential in me. He even said it.” Maybe Peter was showing off a little bit, but how many people can he tell that? Like, two.

“Did you take it?” Wade asked, leaning forwards so his feet were off the ground.

“Of course I took it! I’d be insane not to.” Peter leaned into the cupboard but found nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s right, they’ve ordered food every night since he got here. “There’s literally no food. Why is there literally no food? You know what, I don’t care. Let’s go out to eat.”

Wade gasped, “You mean like a date?” Wade covered his mouth and swung his legs. “Petey is this a date? Because my idea of a date is staying inside and forcing Taco Bell guy to bring the food to me,” Wade joked.

Peter didn’t like the tone that Wade had. It wasn’t nice. He was joking, but he was actually serious. “To celebrate, Wade. Why don’t you want to go out tonight?” Peter frowned.

“Most people throw up when they see my face, and I don’t want ya to puke in public, wouldn’t dream of embarrassing ya!” Wade said, jumping up off the bench.

“I won’t puke.”

“That’s what they all say,” Wade said, winking and doing finger guns at Peter. “Plus, if not you, it’d be the waiter, or some dipshit child at the table next to us.”

“Why don’t you keep the suit on, and just put some normal clothes over the top? Or just keep your mask on? I mean, I’d prefer if you just came as yourself, but it’s your decision,” Peter offered.

Wade paused, thinking it over. “Why do you care if I come?”

“You’re my roomie now, duh. I can’t celebrate alone.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to celebrate with your other friends?” Peter felt a pang of pity settle into him when Wade spoke. It was almost defensive.

“I don’t have other friends,” Peter said, and this time it was Wade’s turn to take pity on Peter.

“Oh, that sucks.” Was all Wade managed to say.

“Okay, that’s enough emotions for one night. Why don’t we go get some Indian and go eat at the park?” Peter said, clapping his hands together once and getting his jacket.

“Sounds like a plan, mi amigo!” Wade said, dashing off to his room to get an outfit together. Peter checked his wallet quickly to see if he had enough cash, which he did. Wade was out of his room in seconds, not without a huge sombrero and a fake moustache over his mask.

“Do I even need to explain why people would take offense to that?”

“Nope, I’m well aware.”

“We’re going to an Indian place, remember?” Peter asked shaking his head.

“Right.” Wade threw off his sombrero and headed towards the door. Peter followed closely behind, making sure to lock the door behind him. He was undoubtedly excited to go out for dinner. As homey as the apartment is, it starts to feel cramped really fast. Also, he managed to get Wade to come outside!! Now there’s something you don’t see every day.

They were taking the elevator, Wade talking at Peter with supersonic speed. Man, forget about Eminem, this guy talks faster than anyone Peter’s ever met.

“So, are we friends?” Wade asked out of the blue. He’s also really fast at changing topics like you don’t even need a transition.

“Of course we are,” Peter said, turning to face Wade.

“Of course we are,” Wade mumbled to himself, a ghost of a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is pretty shit but I had to start introducing the plot besides the romance bit. Also because I already skipped the Harry Potter marathon bonding time, so I refuse to skip the celebration bonding time. Next chapter will likely be just 5000 words of gay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, kids, I'm back.  
> Wow! I've gotten such love from you all. Shucks, I don't deserve it. I'm just a nerd who loves two dorks in red spandex. Seriously, over 1000 hits already! Over 100 kudos!? So many comments! I love talking to you guys, so never be afraid to comment, I'll always reply <3  
> On a less fun notes, I went back to school last week ( :/ ) and I haven't been able to write as much because my free time has been spent on reading a book for english, reading two plays for a drama essay, assignments, on top of regular homework. Updates from now on will probably be weekly, and I'm just as sad as you are about that.  
> BUT, next update I'll put up one of my drawings (or I'll put a link to my art blog) I drew for this fic.  
> Hope this chapter is a nice one. I'm excited to write the climax. Also if my work seems more dialogue heavy than other works out there, it's because I'm a theatre kid and I'm better at script writing.

“Okay, so where are we going for our totally no-homo outing? You said Indian, right? I hope you weren’t planning on going to that place on the corner near that park because I got banned from there in 2008 even though it wasn’t even my fault. The other guy was being an asshole and he totally had it coming. Also that place across from it hates me because I spilled food on the fancy white couches. Well, it was on purpose, but they had it comin’!”

Peter blinked as he tried to imagine where exactly Wade was talking about. He was very vague. Also, “white couches?” Peter said, wondering out loud.

Wade made a gesture with his hands at Peter and raised his eyebrows (does he even have eyebrows? He can’t tell through the mask). “See!? I’m not the only one. Who do they think they are, a pretentious Jimmy Fallon? It’s a restaurant for God’s sake.”

Peter laughed through his nose and put his hands in his pocket. It was a little chilly out, he could see his breath. It was calming to watch his breath flow out in a wave of icy mist.

They were walking along the sidewalk under the streetlamp side, watching their shadows twist and darken and fade every few seconds. There was a gap in conversation and Peter sighed. Everything was okay now. In the past, Peter didn’t think okay would be an option. He’s been through grief a few times, all those times were brought on himself, but he has forgiven himself, at least that’s what he tells Aunt May.

It’s silly to think that a man he just moved in with calms even this so much, but it’s not like it’s never happened before. When he isn’t being an awkward fuck, he can have some easy going non-forced conversations. Maybe part of the reason he’s so relaxed right now is because he was just guaranteed a lot of money and an internship at SI. He really, really, really hopes that he can meet Captain America out of the costume, maybe bring him coffee. Oh lord, Peter would probably thank _him._

Peter looked over at Wade to say something, but Wade was humming Wannabe. Really? Spice Girls? Peter had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. He was unsuccessful. He refuses to call it a giggle. It was so high pitched it may as well have come from a little girl.

“What was that? Was that a flirtation?” Wade asked, dipping his head to look at Peter. Wowie Peter is like really short. No, he’s a solid five foot ten. He is a grown man. Wade is just a buffed up lamp post. 

“What? No, I just—Spice Girls?” Ahh, Peter loved fumbling.

“Yes? Got a problem? Because if you do, I’m setting the apartment on fire,” Wade said defensively. Geez, touchy topic much?

“I’m not an avid fan, but I can dig them. No need to commit arson,” Peter said, shrugging his shoulders and looking ahead of him. “Hey, are you banned from that place?” Peter jerked his head to the right at the building across the street.

“I wonder why we’re both being so vague. No, I’m not. Never been.”

Peter cracked a smile and tugged Wade towards the road’s edge, pull at his hoodie sleeve.

“Woah there, Pete,” Wade said as Peter started crossing the street. “The crossing is just here. You’re jaywalking! That’s a felony!” Wade called from across the street.

“Says you,” Peter yelled back as Wade checked both ways before crossing. Peter was looking at the menu pamphlets outside the restaurant as Wade peered over his shoulder.

“That sounds like orgasm on a plate.” Wade pointed at a dish that was basically just curry and potato. Peter hummed in agreement as he actually noticed Wade’s uncovered hand. So he had decided to not wear his suit. How he changed out of his suit at the apartment that fast was a mystery. Well, at least he didn’t stink of blood.

“Can you order me whatever you get?” Peter asked, handing the menu to Wade and sliding out from in front of him to face him without being majorly in his personal space.

“Oh, I assumed you’d order for us because, you know, I’m not exactly known for being the good guy.”

“Well, fuck. I don’t wanna do it.” Peter slumped his shoulders and whined, being all pouty and stuff.

“It’s alright, I’ll do it. Just means there’ll be more chance of Mexican food in the future when I get banned. Indian is like Mexican’s little sister who tries to be cool like her older sister. Keyword: tries.”

“A true hero, even if your intentions are self centred,” Peter commented. Wade walked in to order their food and Peter followed closely on his heels.

“Is that news to you?” Wade said over his shoulder.

“No,” Peter snorted, “I don’t even know why I’m surprised, to be honest.”

While waiting for their food to be made, Peter let his eyes wander around the room, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly. The paintings were cool, kinda pop arty. The whole room had a nice smell to it. The scent of food cooking in the kitchen wafts into the whole building, which is why Peter likes it. It’s like sitting in front of his old fire place in the winter. After busying his eyes with reading all the items on the menu, he glanced at Deadpool. No, Wade. He’s still not really used to it. In the—what, two years? — that he’s been teaming up with Deadpool every few months, he’s always known him as Deadpool. Of course he had known his real name all along, but saying Deadpool made it easier to punch his stupid face when he killed someone.

That reminds him: this man is a killer. Aunt May had seemed really chill about that fact the last time he saw her. It’s a little weird that she’d be like that considering the circumstances that Uncle Ben died in. Great, now he’s thinking about Uncle Ben. He shakes away that thought.

He reminds himself that, to Deadpool, they only just met. He probably shouldn’t be so cheerful about the situation. Come on, Parker, act like you’re weirded out by being near an infamous mercenary.

“Are you okay?” Wade asked, waving his hand in front of his face. Peter jumped.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” He enunciated clearer. “Your face was all cute and happy, then it was all confused and scared, then it was sad and determined. That’s not the usual feeling I give people, if ya know what I mean.” He bloody winked.

“’Was just thinking,” Peter said, looking at the front counter as he saw the person come out and bag it. He’s been thanking God a lot lately.

Peter walked over and paid. They walked along a street not dissimilar to the one on the way there. It definitely looked the same. Peter was swinging the bag a little. He was so hungry he could eat a horse. Maybe not literally, because that’s mean, but you know what he means.

They arrived at the park. There were a few lamps spread about near the lines of trees, but the main source of light was the moon above them. They sat down in a nice spot near the lake. The moon was almost full, reflecting off the lake. Moonlight does wonders to people’s faces, which is sad considering he can’t see Wade’s. He can vaguely see the outlines of his basic features, like how his nose is sharp, not smooth, and how his jaw is angular and wide, rather than thin and long like Peter’s.

Peter pulled out the food and hoped, just hoped, that he wouldn’t have to face away, as selfish as it sounds. He knows that Wade would be a little uncomfortable, but he just _wants_ to see it. He decided that he’s just look at the lake instead. All the ducks and geese were asleep at the edges of it, under trees and bushes. The water was absolutely still.

“So, how has working for Daddy Stark been?” Wade said after what was probably a long time. He could hear that Wade was eating, because _he’s so goddamn loud_.

“It was so great! Guess who I got to meet?”

“Britney Spears?”

“What? Why would- nevermind. No, I met Dr Banner!” Peter was smiling as he remembered exactly how it happened. Mr Stark introduced him, then they shook hands, and then Dr Banner complimented him on the same work that Stark had. He guessed that Mr Stark had shown him before he was recruited. Did all the Avengers have to approve before any interns got hired?

“Oh Em Gee! You met hulk guy? Does he look like broccoli?”

“No?”

“Huh. I always imagined him as a broccoli lookin’ guy.” Peter saw Wade shrug in his peripherals.

“He has curly hair if that counts for anything,” Peter added and Wade hummed in approval.

“What? No, we aren’t going to ask him- fine,” Wade said seemingly to himself. “Hey Peter, what’s your phone number?” Wade turned to face him, mask still half up.

“Oh, um, pass me your phone and I’ll put it in,” He said, putting his hand out for Wade to put his phone in, which he did. He typed his number into a new contact and put his first name in with the little smiling sun emoji next to it. He just really likes that emoji. He was about to give it back but he saw an opportunity and took it. He took a stupid selfie with the flash on, pulling up a peace sign and doing a face that made his eyes hurt. “Just send me a text so I have your number too.”

“I think the voices in my head just swooned.”

“How is that even possible?” Peter pinched his eyebrows together.

”You ask weird questions.”

“How is that a weird question?”

“Well, when someone mentions their assholey voices in their head, that’s not usually what a normal person would ask,” Wade said, squinting his eyes at something in front of him.

“Maybe I’m not normal,” Peter suggested, balling up his papers and putting them in the bag.

“Boo! Cliché!” Wade whooped.

(ahahaha if only he knew who he was really talking to)

“Whatever,” Peter said, looking over the lake again. Something moved on the other side into the bushes, probably a goose or something. He has no idea what the sleeping schedules of geese are like.

Soon, after a paced conversation, they were heading back home. Watching shadows and tugging his jacket up closer to his neck, the same as the way there.

 

-

 

Peter was wide awake, despite the time being close to midnight. Tonight would be a good night for a lengthy patrol. He opened up his window and climbed out, finally being able to just jump off a roof and swing to another and enjoy the free fall. He started humming a tune as he flipped. And of course that tune would be Spice Girls.

Peter’s senses spiked suddenly and he reflexively slung himself around the corner and in the direction of the crime. He found two men in suits just... standing in the alleyway. They were holding touching the side of their glasses, pointing their guns at the wall. It’s a little weird, if Peter’s being honest, but he’s dealt with weirder.

One of them shot at the wall. There was a boy, who looked to be about in his teens, standing there now, his skin a wobbly fading transparent colour. He doubled over, clutching his right thigh.

“Well then, guess I don’t have to pull my punches,” Peter said, adrenaline running through him.

He dropped down in between the boy and the two men, putting a physical barrier between them. The two men looked at each other, before shrugging and aiming to kill. Peter webbed both of their guns away and rolled his eyes.

“Haven’t you D-grade criminals learned that guns don’t work on me?” He said in mock exasperation. He lunged at them to punch them both in the face, and was successful. They fell to the ground, holding their noses and whispering curse words to themselves.

“Fuck, Henry, I thought we were only dealing with the kid!” One of the said, getting to his knees to get up.

“We were! Spiderman wasn’t on the list for today.”

“Then why is he here?”

“To stop us, dipshit! How stupid are you?”

“Sorry, dipshit, gotta agree with Harry here. How could you not figure that out?” Peter said, kicking the man in the ribs before he got back up. He webbed them to the floor, turning around to find the boy gone. He turned around and knelt down, coming face to face with the guy dubbed ‘dipshit’.

“What did you want with that kid?”

“Screw you, dude,” He spat, blood splattering on his face as he forced the words out.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not above beating the living shit out of low-life criminals who just shot a teenager,” Peter threatened. He didn’t want to have to beat two guys up, but he wasn’t necessarily against it.

“Hey! We’re just delivery guys,” The guy name Henry exclaimed.

“You sure dress fancy for UPS guys.” Peter crossed his arms.

“Not that kind of delivery. We were paid to bring that kid to some guy, I swear! We don’t even know his name!” Henry said, flinching.

Pete heard police sirens buzzing a few streets away, and he stood up, positive that those two guys were telling the truth. They certainly don’t look like criminal masterminds.

Head swung away before the police arrived, thinking over what had happened. What did someone want with that boy? Did he have powers? He was so young, and already people are trying to abduct him for their own selfish needs. What made him feel uneasy was the fact that the boy had run away. He had a flesh wound. That takes will power, man. Peter was perplexed, to say the least. The whole thing felt ominous.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot gets added in, just so it can thicken. Team Red gets a spark of action, Peter isn't doing as good as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... long time no see. I'm back, in case you didn't notice. There's no real explanation for the hiatus, at least one I'm comfortable sharing. I've taken up advanced english in school and I love it. If you think you see foreshadowing or symbolism anywhere in this whole story, you're probably right. Everything that is written matters.   
> Well, enjoy!

Peter woke up the next morning in a bundle of sweaty sheets and a breath full of sandpaper. The boy from last night haunted his dreams. It feels dehumanising to only refer to him as “the boy”. What was his name? Why did people want to kill him? God only knows what that kid has been through already. He went invisible... not exactly a cool party trick you can share with anyone. Peter dresses in a sweater vest (proudly, may he add) and drags his hand along the wall until he reaches his door, Spiderman suit discarded under his mattress. He hasn’t found a better spot since he moved in.

The house is empty as he stalks across the wooden floor. No Deadpool, no Wade, no sign of life. He sighs, and looks in the cupboard for something to salvage. Ever since he moved in, Wade made them both food for every meal, or at least provided it. He gets a sinking feeling in his chest as he realises that he has to actually make something for the first time in days. Note he said something, not food, because he can tell you right now that it won’t be food by the time he’s done with it.

The smell of burnt popcorn (yes, that’s what he’s having for breakfast, please don’t judge) covers the murky smell of forest tree bark, replacing it with the smell of the cigar smoke that usually coats Jameson’s office. Such a shame to taint his house with failure so soon.

He sat on the couch, dust clouding him, feet propped up. He went to reach for the remote, but a red sticky note jabbed at his fingers. He turned his attention to it, failure popcorn discarded.

“Gone on a job, be back in a few ;)”

In Peter’s opinion, that winky face was unnecessary. Also, a few what? Hours? Weeks? He secretly hopes it was just a few minutes, and Wade will come busting in with pancakes and a sunshine attitude. He did say a job, so probabl-

_Hold up Parker,_ his internal monologue urges him _. “Sunshine attitude”? When did this endearment become associated with Wade—Deadpool?_

Peter shakes himself. He ditched his “something” (food attempt) in favour of shrugging his bag on, leaving for work. Oh yeah, his work is now Stark Industries, in case you didn’t know. He works as a paid intern and Stark Industries, understudying Iron Man, in a way. Did he mention that he works at Stark Industries?

He had a skip in his step as he speed walks to work. Is this job satisfaction? Wowza, never thought he’d feel this. It’s like sex, but he gets this on a regular basis. Was that self-depreciating? Who cares, he works at Stark Industries. He can’t wait to see the pay-check. Maybe he can pay for Aunt May to go on vacation, and maybe even go on one himself.

When he walked inside, the bustle of the foyer overwhelmed him. With his increased senses, he has learnt to deal with hearing more things, feeling more things, but this atmosphere still overwhelms him, and that’s saying something.

“Peter!” Stark yells from across the crowd of people, barely audible. Peter just realised his height; Tony Stark really is a tiny man. Just goes to show size doesn’t matter. He smiles, and briefly wonders if Wade had made that joke recently because it has Wade written all over it.

Stark takes Peter by the wrist and practically drags him into the elevator. As soon as the doors shut, Tony has him pinned to the wall, holding both of his wrists seized by his side now, trapped in a cage of arms.

“Where is Deadpool?” Stark hissed. His eyes are searching, just like the day he was found out and hired. Peter was not okay with the close proximity. His number one rule of social interaction is that when talking, he shouldn’t be able to feel the other person’s breath on him at all. It just peeves him.

“What? Why would—“

“Don’t shit with me. You and him have been bumping hips at night, cracking jokes over dinner. He must have said something to you.” Stark’s eyes have narrowed.

“I don’t—“

“He’s gone off the radar, and now bodies have been appearing in different states of dismemberment. You must know—“

“Wait!” He said, voice raised, shoving Stark off and slamming the **stop** button. “First of all, I have _nothing_ to do with Wade besides the fact that he accompanies me on patrol sometimes and I live with him. Not exactly my first choice of roommate either. And before you say something completely stupid—“ Peter said, putting a hand up as if to shush him. “Not everyone can afford to build a tower just to live in. Shocker, I know.” Peter is sure he’s red with anger. “Second of all, how do you know he’s gone? Have you got my apartment _bugged?”_

“Already on a first name basis?” Stark said, a last attempt at controlling the conversation. Stark’s demeanour seems to have shifted.

“Don’t dodge the question.” Peter matches his posture, physically demanding equal status, respect.

“Yes, to keep tabs on that—that murderer,” Stark basically spat. He has his arms crossed, but he seems to have shrunk down a little.

_Murderer._

“Surely that can’t be why everyone is having a shit-fit downstairs.” Peter points out, keeping a fair amount of space between the two of them, looking at the floor. For once, looking down isn’t a sign of awkwardness, but disappointment.

“No,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Media got a hold of the fact that mutants, young ones especially, are being abducted.” Stark let out a breath and looked Peter in the eyes, Peter averted his. “Sorry... about that.”

Peter sighed small. “It’s okay, but what is the real reason I’m here. At Stark Industries, I mean.”

“I do want you on my team, superhero or science, either way. But I also think you may be in danger.” Tony presses the up button and they continue their journey in the elevator.

Right outside the elevator, on the side table, Stark picks up a file thicker than the tree it came from, never stopping his stride. He’s taken them to his personal floor. On any other day he’d be gawking at the interior designs and wide space, but this must mean Spiderman business. He straightens his back, a little stiff at the thought of Stark being able to hold his identity against him. He’s always aware of that fact. He was a _little_ uneasy after what happened only moments ago in the elevator, but he guessed it was nothing personal. At least he hopes. Dear god let Iron Man like him.

“Are you prepared for what I’m about to say?” Tony said, turning on his heel to face Peter, stopping in his tracks.

“Just spit it out.”

“Human experimentation,” Stark has a glint in his eye, a sad one. He looks horrified. Peter is 100% sure he doesn’t like that look on the infamous Tony Stark’s face. “Not just experimentation on anyone. Specifically mutants, even more specifically, mutants with somatic mutations.”

“Somatic mutations? Why? Usually they go for mutants who’s had their abilities since birth, try to replicate the genetic code of the mutation. Why somatic ones? They aren’t hereditary,” Peter questions, finally getting some real work done. “And why are you consulting me? Why not professor X?”

“He’s gone incognito, as with all his students. They’ve moved somewhere underground, to protect the students who have acquired mutations, or any kids that may be taken in order for information. As for why they want mutants with somatic mutations, I don’t know. If I had to guess, I’d say that they want mutants who they know have the right genes to harbour powers.”

“Mutants who they know can handle experimentation,” Peter finished his sentence for him, looking down. He unconsciously matched his voice to Stark’s, mimicking the rhythm and tempo. “Earlier you said that they are taking _young_ mutants? Why young ones? I think I stopped one of these abductions just last night, too.”

“Probably just so it’s easier to manipulate them to go with them, or to turn them evil,” Stark said with a tone of finality. He looked stressed beyond belief. Does he know someone who has been taken? Or will be? “This whole ordeal is what led me straight to you. I was monitoring Wilson’s house, because I presumed he’d be a top priority target—you know, with not being able to die and all.” He flapped his hands around uselessly. “And I was shocked to find you, a seemingly normal roommate—as normal as you can be, living with Deadpool— climb out of a window in the one and only Spiderman suit.”

“...I’m guessing Captain America doesn’t know about this?” Peter asked quizzically. That would explain why he looked confused when they were at The Bugle.

“He didn’t.”

“Until today.” There Peter went again, finishing his boss’ sentences. “Is he considered a mutant?”

“Technically, yes? I don’t know. But drugs altered his body permanently, and that’s all they want.”

“So, you think I should move out? My Aunt lives in the same building as me, I can’t leave her, especially if she could be in danger.” Peter fidgeted, shifting his weight side to side. Basically pacing without walking, another odd idiosyncrasy he does on the regular.

“What?” Stark said, “No, I think the best thing to do is to stay where you are.”

“But you said that Deadpool is a top priority target? Isn’t that, like, the WORST place I could be?”

“No one but me has access to those tapes, not even JARVIS. No one else knows that you’re Spiderman. And I _presumed_ that he would be a top priority target. Well, I presumed wrong. In the six weeks mutants have been disappearing, only one group of twelve people have tried to take Wilson. You can guess what happened to them.” Stark pulled out some gruesome photos, of men (or women, he can’t tell) covered in pools of blood, more or less a pile of limbs and guts. Peter gagged. He understood what Stark is insinuating.

“Can I tell him? That people might be after him.”

“He already knows,” Stark says, closing the folder in his hands, ushering him to elevator. “I’ve left some relevant information at your station. Go now, we have lots of work to do.”

-

The next few days, Peter spent his free time patrolling, even in day time. All that was on his mind was the fact that people are being abducted, and experimented on. Sleep counted as free time. He needn’t worry about sleep, he’s run on less.

On the fourth night, Peter stopped patrolling Queens and headed to Hell’s Kitchen. He needed to tell Daredevil, so he could keep an eye out on his part of the city. There was no time to run along roofs and giddily punch baddies in the face. Did Daredevil have powers? He doesn’t know, but he needed to know.

He told him as much as he could, including the other night when the invisible boy was shot.

“So just be on the lookout? I don’t know if they will go after you, but they don’t seem to discriminate based on the part of town you’re in. I bet some people have already been taken from Hell’s Kitchen right from under your nose.”

“I don’t doubt that, Spiderman,” Daredevil said after Peter had finished briefly going through what he knew. “But how’s your situation?”

“My what?” Peter took a mental step back.

“Your roommate problem,” Daredevil reiterated. His body language was lax, but unmoving.

“Really, this is the thing you want to talk about after I dumped all that _classified_ information on you? Aren’t you worried?” Peter mused, smirking under his mask. A smile seems unfamiliar on his face after the last few days of business only.

“Give me some credit; I clean Hell’s Kitchen’s dirt every night.”

“Deadpool hasn’t been home in days. My house is bugged. I’m on the bad guy’s wanted list. What else could I ask for?” Peter leaned against a nearby wall, head leaned back.

“A better roommate?” Daredevil shrugged comically. He smiled afterwards at his own joke. Peter glared at him, looking down his nose at him.

“Cold. Anyway,” Peter said, “turns out I starve when he’s not around. I kind of miss him, too. It’s boring all by myself.”

“I’m sure he’s missing you while he’s out making a kebab of someone.”

“Damn, what’s with you today? Not like I can exactly move out. He’s basically protection.”

“You trust him with your life?”

Peter drew back, stunted by the blunt question. Does he? That’s a very foolish thing for him to do. What was his relationship with Wade? He probably only trusts him because he can probably knock him cold if he needs to, because he’s Spiderman. Wade lives with Peter Parker: nephew of a sweet aunt, photographer, and nerd. Deadpool regularly fights crime with Spiderman: nameless, faceless, and mysterious.

When did he start seeing Wade and Deadpool as two different people? What’s changed? He reminds himself that Wade is capable of murder, a hundred times over. Weird to actually think it in those words. If Deadpool ever found out Peter and Spiderman were the same person, Peter might be on the bad side of one deranged mercenary.

He stored this conversation in the back of his mind for later analysis.

“Deadpool isn’t a hero, don’t make him one,” Daredevil said, interrupting his internal one man show.

Peter tilted his chin down, deciding not to answer. He stood there, not for long, he’s sure. He’s just silently going over what his plan of action is. Reveal his identity to Wade—Deadpool? Move out and risk Aunt May’s safety, and his own, and ditch Wade? They had become quick friends, without the mask. Everything points to staying. Even Tony Stark pointed in Deadpool’s direction and said **_safety_**.

Peter must have some sort of summoning power, because just as he was having an internal turmoil over how trustworthy Deadpool is, he shows up.

“Spidey! Didn’t expect to see you out here!” Deadpool said gleefully, clapped him hard on the back twice then threw his arm around his waist. “I mean, I was hoping, but I was expecting to come up empty handed today if you catch my drift.”

Peter stiffened, but then relaxed. Nothing had changed, he could still drop his ass. Speaking of asses, Wade’s hand was, in fact, drifting. Peter grabbed his arm and flipped him over onto the ground. Not hard, just wanted to take him down a notch.

“Ooh~” Deadpool cooed, fluttering his eyes. Peter wasn’t up for _those_ kinds of shenanigans tonight. “You look tense! You been fighting without me?” Deadpool jumped to his feet and slung his arm over Peter’s shoulders this time.

“I should be asking you that,” Peter said, leaning into the embrace a little. He was more tired than he thought. Guess sleep deprivation does that. “You haven’t been around for days.”

“Uh, Spidey, boo, I got back two days ago. I was only gone for a few days, not a week. Don’t be overdramatic.”

“What? Why didn’t you find me?” Peter was a little panicked. He hadn’t been home in days; he was either at work or on the rooftops as Spiderman. He has slept a little at his desk. It must look soooo suspicious.

“You are hard to find when you’re on rooftops like this. At least recognise how much skill it took to even get here,” Deadpool complained.

“Daredevil seemed to have no trouble getting here, and then disappearing in an instance.”

Right as he said that, said Devil of Hell’s Kitchen poked his head up from the edge of the building, waving a hand.

“Hey—What? What are you doing?” Peter unhooked himself from Deadpool’s arm and walked over to the edge.

“Oh, well, I was going to ask for your help with a situation down here.” He pulled his legs over the edge and stood, nodding in the general direction of Deadpool. “We might need three people.” He grimaced.

“Oh. Em. Gee. Is this finally the Team Red team up everyone’s been waiting for? I can’t wait to blog about this later,” Deadpool said as he skipped over.

“Don’t get too excited. There are twelve of them down there, one civilian, possibly a mutant,” Daredevil said, listening half to the conversation he’s having, half to the bad guy’s heartbeats or conversations.

“I’ve seen you take down twelve guys on your own,” Deadpool stated, raising one masked eyebrow.

“I wasn’t stabbed when I did that.” Daredevil said, removing a hand from his hip to reveal blood.

“Well I have,” Deadpool boasted, sticking a thumb in the direction of his own face. God he was such a dork.

“Before we go, what’s our plan?” Peter asked.

“I think we should just disarm them and find out what we need,” Daredevil said, holding his wound again.

“Ready when you are,” Deadpool said, unsheathing his katanas and crouching in a predatory pose.

“Got anything non-lethal?” Peter was sure he just said ‘disarm’ and not ‘maim’ or ‘kill’. Deadpool paused, then pulled out a grenade in each hand, shrugging in question. “No, Deadpool.”

“Fists only, let’s go.” Daredevil said, leaping onto the nearest fire escape.

Deadpool wrapped both arms around his waist this time. “Shall we?”

Peter rolled his eyes as best as he could in a mask. “That was a one-time thing.” Daredevil was already halfway down when Peter hauled them both off the edge, using his web shooters to catch himself before they hit the ground.

“He says, as he does it a second time,” Deadpool stage whispered as he lands on his knees. His hands instinctively reached for his katanas, but he stopped himself.

All twelve men turn to face the three red-suited heroes. Some smirked in amusement, some were not so keen. They stood in stance, ready for a fight. They advanced.

“I still can’t believe that this is happening,” Deadpool said, throwing the first punch of the battle, already taking the other man’s pocket knife and throwing it into another man’s shoulder.

Peter slung himself into the air, at least five feet above their heads, landing behind the group of men, putting himself in the alley corner. He immediately started punching the ones that surrounded him. Peter was quick and to the point: punch, dodge, repeat; web, kick, repeat. He wasn’t here to enjoy it, he had wanted to go home an hour ago. He barely got hit, so swift that he was like water falling between the fingers of the enemies’ hands.

Daredevil, in spite of his freaking stab wound, was doing more fancy flips and tricks than Peter and Deadpool combined. Back flips, baranies, back handsprings that kick someone in the face. If there was ever a graceful way to fight, he does it. Give him a ribbon and it may as well be art.

Deadpool was, well, Deadpool. He had no fighting style. He used his surroundings to beat his enemies in the most amusing way possible. He disappeared around a corner for a moment, and came back with two handfuls of pretzels, throwing them like shruikens. It surprisingly halted the men for a moment, if only out of confusion or salt in their eyes.

 “On your left!” Deadpool called to Daredevil, who swiftly took care of it. So far there were eight men on the ground, knocked out or too hurt to get back up. Deadpool wasn’t overdoing it, but the same couldn’t be said for Peter.

Peter had one man by the collar, the remaining three over by Daredevil and Deadpool. “Who do you work for?” Peter yelled in his face, slamming it against the wall. The man sputtered.

“Fuck you,” he spat, blood dribbling down his chin.

“Wrong answer.” Peter slammed his head against the wall again, straddling the man when he fell to the ground. He punched him. “Who?”

The man stayed silent, and Peter punched him again. Okay, so maybe he was letting off a little steam, but who better to do it on than a man who actively helps people experiment on people? He punched him again, and again, until he was sure he was knocked out with a potential concussion. He punched him again for no reason.

“Spiderman.” Daredevil pulled him out of his tunnel vision, a look of disappointment on his face (at least the part you can see). Peter said nothing and stood up. He was embarrassed, to say the least, but not regretful.

“That was so hot. Again! Again!” Deadpool cheered from beside Daredevil, earning a tired grunt from the man next to him.

“I’ll uh, leave you to interrogate these guys,” Peter said, not looking either of them in the eyes. “See ya round.” He swung away before either of them could say anything.

What if they weren’t even part of the real problem? What if they’re just a gang he savagely beat up? He’ll have to mull over that tonight, in bed, instead of sleeping. To think he was finally going to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter seems different style wise, it's intentional. It's meant to make you feel different than the first 4. Just saying, in case you think this style will last forever. It won't!


End file.
